


Moments of Deep Emotion I thru IV

by thebasement_archivist



Category: The X-Files
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 1999-09-30
Updated: 1999-09-30
Packaged: 2018-11-20 18:45:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,106
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11341164
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thebasement_archivist/pseuds/thebasement_archivist
Summary: A prison cell, two gorgeous guys, burning desire





	Moments of Deep Emotion I thru IV

**Author's Note:**

> Note from alice ttlg, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Basement](http://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Basement), which moved to the AO3 to ensure the stories are always available and so that authors may have complete control of their own works. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in June 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [The Basement's collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/thebasement/profile).

 

Moments of Deep Emotions I: Burning Desire by Ratwoman

05.11.98  
Disclaimer: Chris Carter is the happy guy who owns them. I'm the one who cares for them.  
Ratings: I guess between R and NC-17, nearer to R. The sequel will be NC-17, I promise!  
Pairing: M/K  
Spoilers: Tunguska  
Summary: A prison cell, two gorgeous guys, burning desire  
Thanks to:  
1)Foxwoman and my sister for beta-reading  
2)Depeche Mode for inspiration. The quotation is taken from their song   
"I want you now"  
Feedback always welcome: 

* * *

Moments of Deep Emotions I: Burning Desire  
by Ratwoman

I want you now  
tomorrow won't do  
there's a yearning inside  
and it's showing through  
reach out your hands   
and accept my love  
we've been waiting for too long  
enough is enough  
I want you now

He's not sleeping. I hear him rolling from side to side, obviously searching for a comfortable position on the hard plank-bed. Or is he thinking about the same things as I? Ridiculous! As if he could want me after all the times I've beaten him up and treated him like a piece of dirt. Like the piece of dirt he is, this murderer, betrayer, traitor and liar. And yet... yet I want him. I want to hold his slender body, taste his skin, I want to believe that he never deceived me, that he never shot my father. And yet I want him. But all I do is stare holes into the air.

Is he sleeping? He's lying quietly on his plank-bed, making no sound, no move at all. If I shut my eyes I could perhaps forget that he's so near. But when I close my eyes, I see him, his shining eyes, his slender form, his hands, his sensual lower lip... I can't sleep, he's too close, within reach. I just need to take a few steps to be beside him, to touch him... Oh how I want him, how I wish to be with him, to feel his skin on mine, to close his lips with mine, to explore every inch of his body... I can't bear it no longer, I want him, now, tomorrow may be too late, they may kill us if I can't convince them not to do so. I'm trembling, I can't control the shivering. I want him, I need him, I can't wait any longer. I will take him, wether he likes it or not!

He stands up, I hear him move. I hope, I wish that he'll come to me, that the same need as mine drives him. But he stops at the small window and stares out into the night. The dim moonlight just shows a black silhouette of his slender form, but that's more than enough. I can hardly bear it any longer now that I also see him. His slender form, his quite broad shoulders, his slim hips...It does not help to look away or close my eyes, for I can still see his picture, his eyes with the incredible lashes, his muscular, yet slender, graceful body, his ass... Does he know that I keep staring at his ass at any opportunity? He stands at the window without moving at all, like a marble statue. Yes, like one of the antique greek statues, he has a lot in common with them. My Adonis. I want to stand up and step right behind him, close my arms around his slim waist and just feel him close to me. But what did he say just hours ago? "Don't ever touch me again!"

Yes, I want him. But if I frighten him, I'll lose him forever. So I give up my plans to take what I need with or without his consent and just stare into the night. It's a clear night, I can see the stars, but I don't really see them. Instead I see Mulder's eyes gleaming in the sky, and over there, don't they form Mulder's face? I'm sure he's staring at me, I can feel it in my back. Why? Does it mean he wants me, too? Oh sure, Alex, you've just killed or hurt everyone important to him, why should that make him shrink back? And certainly he just keeps beating you because he really wants to fuck you! Stop dreaming, Alex! My heart is racing, my blood is rushing through my veins, burning like fire, and his mere presence makes my member stand painfully aching against my pants. What shall I do? God, what can I do? I turn around and sink trembling to the floor, but not because of the cold. I can see Mulder in the pale light, he's sitting upright on the bed, looking into my direction. If I just knew what he's thinking... 

I'm even aroused when all I see is his silhouette in the pale moonlight. He's out of sight now, sitting on the floor below the window, but that doesn't make it any better. I feel this aching, burning in my groin and everywhere else, as I never felt before. I want him, I long for him, I burn for him. I can't wait any longer. It's so dark that I hardly see my feet when I stand up and walk towards the window, towards him. As I can see his shadowy form, I squat down in front of him. I can see his face now, his skin looks pale in the moon light, his huge eyes like deep, dark lakes. I wonder if he thinks that I'm going to beat him like I always do. No need to worry. I don't want to beat him. I also don't want to rape him. "Don't touch me again!" Did he just want to say "don't beat me again", or did he mean it literally?

He's here. Right in front of me. What shall I do? What does he want me to do? I'm playing in my head through all the different possibilities from confessing my feelings to just falling upon him like a savage animal, but there's a catch in all of them: if he doesn't want me half as much as I want him, he'll be disgusted by my actions. That would forever destroy my chances for getting him. As if there where any. I have not the slightest chance of getting him since the day I've sealed my deal with Cancerman. My deal with the devil. Maybe if Mulder was weaker than I, I could take him without his agreement, but that's not what I want. Besides, I'm no rapist, that's a level I'm not willing to sink down to. If he could just do something, or tell me why he's here, sitting face to me? As I can't bear it any longer I ask, my voice sounding hoarse: "What do you want, Mulder?"

I want you. Of course I can't answer that, he doesn't seem to feel the same, or how should I interpret his question? He's wondering why I'm here, so near to him, maybe he's afraid that I intend to beat him again. So I stay silent as I rise to my feet and take a step back. I don't know how to stand the night being in the same room as he is, but certainly I won't touch him as long as he doesn't want it. I intend to go back to bed, but as I turn around, his breaking voice, calling out my name in a desperate tone, freezes me.I squat down again, hope relieving my aching heart. "Alex?" I hear my voice say. 

So silently that I can hardly understand him, he whispers: "Please." Can it be? I have to be sure, I can't fall upon him like a monster. "Please what?" I ask, trying to make my voice sound tender, but it's husky, everything but tender. 

"Don't go!" he whispers, his huge eyes staring at me like a drowning man at a life-line. He wants me? Everything inside me sings. I'm happy, forgetting where I am, who we are, joy is overwhelming me, and so I don't realize that I'm cruel to him when I'm joking: "That's a strange plea, Alex. You know that I CAN'T go, we're imprisioned."

Now that he found out, he's making fun of me. It's like I was afraid of, no, it's worse. It feels like broken glass cutting into my heart as I realize that he knows about my feelings but doesn't seem to share them. Cruel, cruel Mulder not just turns away in disgust, he's playing games with me. I can't stand that, I must go. Well, go I can't very far, all I can do is take a few steps aside, but Mulder holds me back. His touch is electrisizing, even 'though he just holds me at my arm. "Where are you going?" he asks. In a bitter voice I imitate his earlier answer: "That's a strange question, Mulder. You know that I can't go anywhere, we're imprisoned." I want to shake off his grip, but... he takes my face into his free hand and forces me to look at him. Looking into my eyes he says: "I'm sorry that I was joking when you were serious, Alex, but I want you to know: I want you now."

The End of the Beginning

 

* * *

 

Disclaimer:Chris Carter is the happy guy who owns them. But I'm the one who really cares for them!  
Ratings: NC-17, M/K, slash; PWP  
Spoilers: Tunguska; Anasazi  
Thanks to my betas...

* * *

Moments of Deep Emotion II: Unrestrained Passion  
by Ratwoman  


My heart is aching  
My body is burning  
My hands are shaking  
My head is turning  
You understand  
It's so easy to choose  
We've got time to kill  
We've got nothing to lose  
I want you now<<  
Depeche Mode; I want you now

I couldn't believe my ears. Had Mulder really said that he wanted me? His hand was still resting on my cheek, still forcing me to look at him. Not that it was neccessary to force me to do so. I keep looking at him whenever I can. Now it was as if our eyes were locked with each other. If he really wanted me... then I should take my chance and do something before he had the time to change his mind.

So I opened my mouth a bit and took his thumb between my lips,between my teeth, carefully not to bite him, I started to suck on it, all the time keeping eye-contact, and Mulder began to move his thumb in and out my mouth as if it was a promise for the coming act of love. As his thumb slid out of my mouth I was almost dissapointed, but then he passed his fingers through my short hair, resting his hand on my skull, bent over and started to kiss me. While our tongues met, my long restrained passion seemed to explode, spreading out like a forest-fire through my veins, and I grabbed his shoulders and pressed him down to the floor, still plundering his mouth with my tongue.

While his hands slipped underneath my tee-shirt and explored my back, and I moved my lips along his jaw and down his throat, I still couldn't believe that we were actually doing this. But it was much too real to be just a dream.

Within seconds we strippend each other down, unable to wait any longer. The seconds we spent staring at each other when we both were entirely naked were much longer. In the dim moonlight I couldn't recognize very much of his lean body, but what I saw was enough. He is slender, yet muscular, with broad shoulders, a flat abdomen, and strong swimmer's legs. I remembered the day I had to meet him to pass on information. We met right when he was stepping out of the pool. It was not fair, how should I concentrate on my report when all he was wearing were red speedos! Now he was not even wearing speedos to hide his manhood.

I shivered when my gaze fell to his groin and I noticed that I blushed like a shy school-boy. And like a school-boy I suddenly was afraid that Mulder didn't like what he saw and his eyes viewing my exposed body were awkward to me. But to my relief Mulder bent down and started to kiss my neck, moved upwards and spent some time licking on my left ear. I didn't know before that my ear was an erogenous zone. But now as he licked around it as if it were ice-cream, bit slightly into my earlobe and thrusted his tongue in and out my ear, I couldn't help but moan in pleasure.

With a racing heart I tried to keep still, but I wanted more, I wanted more of him. Eventually I turned my head to ravish his mouth, my tongue in touch with his, which had been in my ear just seconds ago, while I seized around him to pull him near. Chest on chest, his smooth skin on mine, I almost came from the feeling of the curls on his chest rubbing against my nipples. I rested my head on his shoulder, inhaling his scent, while his hands moved slowly down my back, cupping my buttocks. I couldn't believe how near he was.

We spent a couple of moments in a fervent embrace, each of us moving our lips and tongue along the other one's shoulders and neck, filled with intense sensations, before passion overwhelmed me again and I pressed him flat to the floor, moving with my tongue down his chest, paying special attention to his already erect nipples. Mulder writhed underneath me and made exquisite noises. How I loved to hear them. How I loved him. I traced my way further down, over his flat stomach, to his groin. His cock was already wet with precum as I licked along his shaft. Now I remembered that I needed something to lube him up, so I took his already hard member into my hands, stroking up and down with my right hand, while my left caught up his precum. Mulder willingly heighered his hips, when my hand slid down to smear the liquidity into his opening. I had hardly started to lube him up when he began to plead me to fuck him. I had already been stonehard when we started this, but I didn't want to hurt him, so I also smeared in some of my own precum to make sure that he really was slick enough, before I entered him.

Hot and tight, his inner muscles clenched around my cock, melting me. I started to move slowly, elicting him a deep moan. Mulder pulled me down for another passionate kiss. I greedily kissed him back, then moved my lips along every inch of his skin I could reach, wanting to consume as much of him as I could while our rhythm was speeding up. Finally, as his inner muscles convulsed in a tight grip around me, I came in a mind-blowing orgasm, my semen spurting out into him like an explotion. I collapsed onto him, covered with sweat, exhausted and sated.

Mulder hadn't come yet and because of that I had a bit of a bad conscience. No need to; Mulder surely took care of his need.

While I was still gasping for breath, he climbed away from underneath me. Lying with my stomach on the cold, hard floor, I felt Mulder's fingers travelling down my spine, over the cleft of my buttocks. I shivered as one of his fingers, wet with my own sweat, entered my hole in a fluid movement. I shivered not so much with lust, more with anticipation, even with unease. It' s just, usually I don't like to be ridden; I prefer to be in control, to be on top, to be able to get out quickly in case that someone breaks down the door to kill me. It's paranoid, I know.

Slut that I am, not liking it never kept me from surrendering control whenever useful; be it in exchange for information, for a place to hide, or in hard times even for money. Then I'd bend down and let my...business partner take what he wants, gritting my teeth and waiting for it to end.

Of course, I also was willing to give Mulder all the pleasure I was looking for, after all I had taken mine from him. I thought of this part of the night of something I had to go through.

Mulder surprised me. He never stops surprising me.

He spent a lot of time lubing me up, touching my prostate with his saliva-wetted fingers, setting a sparkling fire free. He made me shiver; he made me moan; he made my cock harden and press against the floor. When he bent down to kiss my neck, his fingers still twisting in my ass, suddenly his fingers weren't enough and I wanted to feel all of him inside me. Writhing in lust I heard myself beg: "Please, fuck me, I want you deep inside me, please, please...."

Mulder finally had mercy on me and penetrated me, slowly, diving deeper with each thrust. I moaned, I cried, I couldn't believe how good it felt. His hands entwined with mine, his lips sucking on my neck, he started to rock back and forth.

It's strange, him lying completely on me, pressing me to the hard floor, taking all control away from me... it was absolutely not the way I used to prefer to have sex, but right then, I didn't care. I didn't just like it. I loved it. I loved every move Mulder made, every sound he made, every sensation he made me feel. And I think I loved him.

We came about the same time, my seed spurting out onto the floor, his into me. He crawled down off me and we spent a few moments in an embrace, before we hastily put on our clothes, for Siberian nights are nothing but cold. None of us said a word as we lay down, snuggling against each other.

  
He's sleeping now. In my arms. I cannot sleep yet, but it feels so damn good to hold him, his face on my shoulder. He looks sad, even in his dreams. How I wish that I could resolve him from his sadness, but it's as futile as trying to grab the stars for him. What would I have to do to take away his sadness? Bring back Samantha and his father, provide that they be a happy American family, undo Scully's abduction, maybe even take care that they marry, bring back to life Scully's sister, and show him every single secret the Consortium hides. Each of it is impossible to me, and worst of all, I've caused much of his sadness. It's a miracle that he's been making love to me after all I've done. To my regret I can't go back and keep myself from doing all the things I feel remorse for today, but at least I can try to find a way out of the gulag for both of us. I know some of the commanders here - well, actually I don't know them, I just know people who know them, but perhaps if I manage to talk to the superiors here, I can convince them to let us free. Maybe. And maybe they'll decide that we've seen to much and kill us. But sooner or later they'd kill us anyway.

I'll try, Mulder, I'll try.

To be continued

 

* * *

 

Disclaimer: CC is the happy guy who owns the boys. But I'm the one who really cares for them!  
Ratings: R for violent and sexual thoughts. M/K  
Spoilers: Tunguska, Terma  
Plot Summary: A misinterpretation of events  
Thanks to Foxwoman for sacrifising her time for beta-reading

* * *

Moments of Deep Emotion III: Anger and Disappointment  
by Ratwoman  


'Cause I've got a love  
a love that won't wait  
a love that is growing  
and it's getting late  
Do you know what it means  
to be left this way  
when everyone's gone  
the feelings they stay<<  
Depeche Mode; I want you now

He looked so innocent in his sleep.

I awoke a long time earlier than he, but didn't choose to wake him up. It just felt so good to hold a warm body in my arms, to watch his peaceful features.

He didn't look as if nightmares were molesting his sleep. Unlike me; I've woken up with a racing heart and the vague memory of blending lights and the screams of a girl. Utterly different memories chased the pictures away when I looked at the figure beside me. The floor had been hard, the air cold and the whole circumstances more than awkward, but his body was warm and tight, his skin smooth and velvet, his touches arousing and tender.

Now in the morning I watched his face, unbelieving at the beauty of his sweet, innocent, angelic features, the curtain of his eyelashes, which were forming dark bows on his pale skin. His perfect, delicate nose which makes mine look so coarse in comparision. His lips, which had given me such pleasure that night.

It drives me mad to think that he cheated me again!

When I heard the guards coming, I woke him by shaking his shoulders. He looked around in confusion, before he remembered where he was. Before his face turned into the cold emotionless mask he used to wear since he left the Bureau. At least, I thought it was a mask. How wrong I was! Anything else was fake, any emotion, the way he gazed at me with his wide eyes, the desire of the night... Hope it was fun for that rat bastard!

The guards brought us insect -contaminated soup we threw onto the floor after I fished out a bug. The bowls banged onto the floor with a loud rattling, whereupon an angry guardsman opened the door.

To my confusion, Krycek stood up, starting to shout at the man in Russian. Of course, I couldn't understand a single word, but his voice was demanding, threatening, and the guard's answers became more and more submissive.

My stomach cramped, because of fear? Dissapointment? Because I started to realize that it all had been a trap?

Still not sure about what was going on, I asked Krycek what he'd said to the guard. His face lacking any expression, he answered: "That I want to talk to his superior." Then he went away with the guard, leaving me behind in a haze of confusion.

Not for long; just minutes after he had gone, the door opened again and a bald man accompanied by some guards came in. Jumping at me the guards held me down while the bald man injected something - I have no clue what - in the back of my neck. The needle sunk into my skin and my world went black.

  
When I came to, I was chained naked to a table under wire gratting. Through the corners of my eyes, I could see many others in the same awkward position as I.

Guards were walking up and down, observing us. Then it happened. A pipe above me opened and a black oilien liquidity splashed out onto my face. To my horrors it formed to black worms and crawled into my nose, under my skin. I didn't really feel pain, but fear, desperation, nausea, helplessness. It violently took over my body and my mind, and there was nothing I could do against it.

Krycek. Can it be that he didn't intend this, that he didn't want me to become abused for the tests? That he didn't know what they would do to me? Or did he buy himself free by selling me? Or had it all been a trap from the beginning? Was it his plan to lure me here in order to get captured and to let me rot in the gulag? To get rid of me forever, to let me die, slowly, agonizingly?

And I have been so stupid to trust him! I've even... I've even made love to him!

However, when I came to, I was back in the cell. The voice of the prisoner of the next cell had awaken me. I'd talked to him the day before, he seems to be trustworthy - as far as I can trust my own judgement. It hadn't worked with Krycek, it never has.

"How long have I been lying here?" I asked.

"Hours... I don't know." the man answered with his exotic Russian accent."The first time is bad." he said symphatizisingly.

"They've done this to you?" I realized.

"Yes. It becomes easier each time." Quietly he added. "Until it kills you."

While I moved towards a hole in the wall on which's other side he was, he told me that I've been exposed to the black cancer, "the cancer that lives in the rock."

I could see only his eyes through the hole. Large, dark, expressive eyes.

Almost as beautiful as Alex's eyes.

"Who are you?" I asked.

"I was geologist... quite well known actually...but now I am just a test subject." The painful resignation in his voice tugged at my heart.

Then he told me that the prisoners assumed that the tests were for a cure against the Black Cancer. Hundreds had died during the experiments.

There was something else I wanted to know. Desperately.

"What happened to the man who was in the cell with me, Krycek?"

I don't now which answer I feared more: that something bad had happened to him or that he had allied with our tormentors.

"He is most likely dining with the men responsible for our torture."

I closed my eyes in dissapointment. Krycek had cheated me. Again.

"I heard laughter when they left your cell." my neighbour added.

Something cold was taking hold of my heart. "I'm not going to die." I heard myself say.

"No?" my neighbour asked doubtfully. "Why not?"

"I have to live long enough to kill that man Krycek." I decided, my heart throbbing hard with hatred.

The prisoner passed me something through the hole, a knife. I asked him where he got it. "I made it." he said. "to kill myself. It took me two weeks." His voice was filled with irony as he added. "By then I had lost the desire."

"You'd rather suffer the torture?" I asked in astonishment. I couldn't believe that anyone would prefer this.

Closing his eyes, his voice loaded with sarcasm, he replied: "Isn't it wonderful - the persistance of life? That rock we found buried so deep in the earth - that anything could survive down there goes beyond all reason.... No. They will have to kill me themselves."

  
The following couple of hours I spent feeding my wrath, imagining how I would stab Alex Krycek. How I'd ramm the blade deep into his body, how his warm blood would cover my hands. His eyes would widen in surprise and pain, before they'd become blank. I'd hold his slender body in my arms until he'd get cold, until life vanished from him and all that's left would be his beautiful shell, the shell that disguised such a fiendish soul.

I cried silent tears when I remembered the night. Our night. I remembered each detail, the taste of his skin, the feeling of his muscles, the pleasures his hands and his mouth had inflicted on me.

I had offered him all I could give. And I gratefully took everything he was willing to give. We exposed our most intimate selves to each other, does this mean nothing to him? Was it just for fun? Take what he could get, play with me, and then leave me behind? How could he do this to me?

When the guard came to pick me up, I hoped to meet Krycek, because I was longing to kill him.

  
And now there he is. The guards brought us, the prisoners, to the outside, underneath the grey, clouded sky. I can see Alex Krycek a few hundred yards away, looking clean and healthy and handsome.

"Prisoner." my cell neighbour whispers. "Is that your friend?"

No, not my friend. Alex and the bald man who ordered the tests are hugging like old friends. Alex even lights him a cigarette.

It hurts so much to see that I was right, that Alex deceived me again.

"You have but one chance." my neighbour reminds me.

My blood burning like fire through my veins I draw the knife and break out of the line. Before the guards really notice it, I reach Krycek and knock him down onto the bed of a truck.

But I can't kill him. He's the murderer of my father, an attache in Scully's abduction, he even tried to kill her but shot her sister instead. He's the man who's somehow able to gain my trust again and again, only to betray it, to kick it with his feet. Playing with me, playing with my feelings. Sleeping with me just to let me down the next day.

Bastard! Why can't I kill you!

Instead of stabbing him I punch him in his pretty face, knocking him unconscious. I decide to get into the cab of the truck in order to cut his throat later in the woods, when I've got rid of the persecutors, but even as I'm thinking it I know I won't do that. I'm no killer. I even won't kill Krycek.

Especially not Krycek.

I start the truck, overrun a fence and drive into freedom, my beloved hostage lying unconscious on the loading place.

The Beginning of the End

 

* * *

 

Plot Summary: Escape from the gulag; strange dreams

* * *

Moment of Deep Emotion IV: Pain and Fear  
by Ratwoman  


You dropped me, at high speed. Some skin tore off,   
then grew again. I climbed out of that trough.  
Yet still I thought, how beautiful you were....  
       From John Wain; You dropped me, at high speed 

Mulder is able to destroy the best plans. 

A few hours before Mulder started to freak out, knocked me down and drove away with me dumped on the load area like a hunter's prey, I had a very long, exhausting conversation with the men in charge. I can be very convincing; at the end they all agreed in letting me free and they were even willing to think about whether they could let Mulder go with me, too. They even believed the lie that Mulder was my informant in the US, selling me important secrets. 

A few more hours, Mulder, and they would have let us go. 

Too bad that I didn't have the opportunity to reach the superiors before the mad scientist had had the chance to use Mulder as a test subject. No wonder that Mulder felt betrayed by me. He's always quick with putting all the blame on me.

When I woke up on that load area, Mulder had already gotten rid of all the guards who had been following us at first, but nevertheless the truck was speeding up. Sensing that something was wrong, I crawled towards the cabin and peered through the grating. Mulder was trying to slow down the truck, but the brakes were defective. I couldn't help him; all I could do was save myself.

I landed hard on my right arm when I rolled down the truck onto the road, but at least nothing worse had happened to me.

The truck vanished behind a curve. I ran after it, hoping Mulder wouldn't get hurt in case of a crash. 

It's certainly better for Krycek that he jumped off the truck before I drove it into a ditch, or else, without any shelter on the load area, he might have got hurt seriously. But at least I'd know now whether he's still alive.

I got hurt, a cut on the forehead, but it wasn't so grave that I couldn't climb out that truck and run into the woods. I walked aimlessly through the forest, and once I had to hide from the guards in a pile of leaves. As they walked by, I didn't even dare to breathe, thinking that my heartbeat was so loud that they could hear it. Fortunately they didn't find me. I peeked out after them, but no sign of Krycek. How I wished to know what had happened to him. 

I soon found the place where the truck had crushed. I climbed down the ditch and examined the vehicle. There was blood on the windscreen, but no sign of Mulder.

Damn! Mulder would never find the way out of the woods without me, especially when he was injured. Full of sorrow I ran into the forest, hoping that I would find him before the guards did.

I was still searching desperately for him, when a group of men surrounded me. They were certainly not the guards of the gulag, but ragged figures, all of them lacking their left arm. It was no difficulty to assume that they weren't friends with the gulag people, although I couldn't quite figure out why they were all one-armed. So I told them that I'd fled from the gulag, that I was American and that they'd falsely assumed that I was a spy. To make it more believeable I strew in some English words and stammered around helplessly, looking confused, trying to give the impression of a harmless tourist who got lost. I'm good at looking harmless; they believed me and promised to protect me.

Wish they 'd have told me how their "protection" would look like. 

At some time the driver of the truck I'd stolen, found me, shouting something in Russian, and dragged me to his home. Certainly working for the gulag didn't make him a rich man because his house was dilapidated, his and his wife's clothes shabby. 

She was sitting at the table as he went in, pushing me inside. They were quarreling in Russian while the woman was fetching hot water to attend my wound. Finally the truck driver left, angrily slamming the door behind him. 

Fortunately the woman spoke English. She told me that her husband was making deliveries for the guards at the gulag and thus made sure that he and his family were allowed to live on. Now that I'd damaged the truck, he was afraid.

Strangely enough, even though they told me they were safe from the tests, their son didn't seem to be, for he had no left arm. "No arm, no test" the woman tried to explain to me. 

I had no time to ask why the boy wasn't safe although his father made deliveries for the gulag, because the door opened and the driver came in. He had a large knife in his hand and wanted to do me a favour so I could avoid tests, too. 

Well, that was a favour I gladly refused. Not wanting to bring them -and me - in further danger, I left them during the same hour.

Although the driver and his family may have appeared to be rude people, they were really trying to help me, giving me a map so that I could find St. Petersburg. They also gave me supplies for a couple of days, even though they had hardly enough food for themselves. They just seemed to be very afraid of the people from the gulag. 

I spent the night in a well hidden cabin they showed me. It probably once was a home for the miners of a now abandoned mine.

Soon I fell asleep from fatigue, but of course nightmares were disturbing my sleep. In my dream I was running through the woods, searching for something I'd lost. I couldn't remember what it was, but I knew it was something dear, something I loved. 

I had become careless. Stupid. How could I only fall asleep with a group of strange, probably insane men around me, all of them lacking one arm for some reason I didn't even dare to ask.

But I fell asleep until I was ungently woken by the men's pinning me to the ground. As their leader took a hot knife and started to saw through my flesh and bones, the world exploded in pain. 

In my nightmare, while I was running through the woods, suddenly I heard screams. Ear-deafening cries of agony, and I thought I knew the voice, but I couldn't quite figure out to whom it belonged.

It frightened me. Not just because I was afraid that something might happen to me. I feared more that I couldn't help the one who was screaming. I couldn't figure out the direction which the screams were coming from, so I ran aimlessly, helplessly through the forest, trying to reach the one in danger, trying to save him, but I failed. As I always do. 

The cries faded and I reached a huge clearing. The trunks of the trees reminded me of the columns of an old temple, the tree-tops were like the ceiling. And there were the statues. 

Marble statues, as true-to-life- as the antique greek ones. I could even see the veins on their hands. But they weren't sculptures of goddesses, myth heroes or warlords. A statue of Sam was there, sitting on a pedestal between her toys, like I will never see her again. Cancerman, smoking a cigarette. My father lying on a broad pedestal, with a blank look on his face and a hole in his head. Shot from the ambush. Scully, in a curled position, a gag in her mouth and her eyes wide in horror, just as I had seen her on the video-tape of the police car, when Duane Barry had tied her in the trunk of his car. My mother, looking reserved. Scully's sister, in a meditation position, with tarot cards in her hands. Skinner, huge and impressive. Phoebe with that arrogant, hurting smile on her face. The others at Quantico, laughing at me, calling me Spooky. Frohike, Langley and Byers, discussing something. My enemies, my allies, my failures.

And finally, Alex.

He was beautiful. Crouched down, naked as he'd been in the prison cell, beautiful although his face was pain-racked. I wondered why he was the only statue which was broken. As many antique statues lacked one or more limbs, he only had one perfectly shaped arm, the other one ended aprubtly underneath his shoulder. I was still contemplating about that, when I saw the blood dropping down the broken shoulder, gathering in a pool on the pedestal.

I tumbled back, gasping in nausea. At the same moment I awoke, bathed in sweat. 

People say, you see life passing by your inner eye like a movie when death is near. I don't know if I could say it was the same way with me, because before I passed out, all I could perceive was a pain I couldn't describe even if I wanted to. But when I fortunately lost consciousness, all the memories came back.

Even in chronological order.

Pictures of my childhood. The images of Russia were blurred, hazy, it was just too long ago. Much better I remembered the land of infinite opportunities, where my parents had wanted to start a new life, flourishing capitalism instead of restricting communism, dreaming the American dream of a small house, a money earning father returning each evening to his happy harmonic family. One evening he didn't return. Never again.

Uniforms of policemen, my mom breaking out in tears. My father's funeral was the first time I saw her drink. It wasn't the last time.

Years on Quantico. Stapels of paperwork and an old man smoking cigarettes, who made me an offer I'd better have refused.

Mulder, and my life went to hell. Mulder in his speedos. Scully's abduction, me slowing down the tram, exactly following my orders. I shot Mulder's father, surprised about the pain when I saw the hurt and the hatred in Mulder's eyes. Cancerman tried to kill me with a car bomb, but I survived. Days and nights on the run followed, several times killers almost hunted me down, breaking into the shabby apartments I used to live in or trying to shoot me in the streets. I was possessed by an oilien until I vomited blood and oil, shut in that damn silo for God knows how long. Freezing on Skinner's balcony. Mulder all the time beating the shit out of me. Whenever I thought it couldn't become worse anymore, fate showed me that I was wrong.

And now Tunguska. Mulder's and my escape. Before, the most wonderful night in my life. Then the most horrible night in my life. 

I have been shivering since I awoke from my nightmare covered with sweat. I didn't know where I was at first, with a racing heart listening to the silence. Then I remembered that I was in a hiding place the truck driver showed me. I was safe there; but what about Alex?

Now I' m pacing the cabin, trying to calm down, but I can't stop thinking about the nightmare. About Alex. Had this been a kind of sign, a premonition? There have been cases of telepathy, when one knew whether something happened to a beloved person. A beloved person? Is it that I don't even try to deny anymore that I love him? After all he has done? In spite of all he has done?

It's cold out there. Where is he? Is he safe? The blood.... his pain-racked features. 

What would Scully say? Why the nightmare? Casually? Because I'm in sorrow for Alex's safety my subconscious tortures my dreams with horrible pictures? Yes, I guess she's right. It had nothing to do with reality, Krycek is probably safe and warm with his friends of the gulag. My nightmares were just a product of my fantasies, of my fears. No reason to worry, really.

I should try to sleep a few more hours. It will be a long way to go tomorrow.

I wonder how Alex is. 

Am I still alive? Probably, because I wouldn't feel the pain if I were dead, or would I? Or is this hell? 

It's cold, it hurts, I'm too weak to move, to weak to speak, and....

I wonder how Mulder is.

I surfaced from those depths wherein I dived.  
The green fields came again. I had survived.  
Even though I knew how beautiful you were. ....  
From John Wain; You dropped me at high speed 

The End  
 


End file.
